


Welcome to the 90's

by Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi



Series: Hetalia Songfics [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1990's, America is doting on Russia, Angst, Awkward Russia (Hetalia), But reconfigured to the 90's, Confident America (Hetalia), Dancing, Fluff, I seriously think America would break out into showtunes given the chance, M/M, Pining, Post Cold War, Post-War, Russia is really admiring America, Singing, Songfic, but not full blown angst, egregious reference to 90's fashion, in the beginning and towards the end, it's a tumultuous time for him, just Russia going through shit, parody of 'Welcome to the 60's' from Hairspray, shopping montage, some serious stuff going on too, the relationship is kind of there, very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24739372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi/pseuds/Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi
Summary: It's the 1990's. The wall has fallen, the iron curtain is coming down, and the Ivan is becoming Russia again. He is having some trouble adjusting to all the sudden changes, and America tries to encourage him in moving forward.A songfic parodying "Welcome to the 60's" from Hairspray, interspersed with Russia being awkward and worrying and America being supportive through it.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Series: Hetalia Songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788919
Kudos: 11





	Welcome to the 90's

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a stupid image I had whenever I listened to “Welcome to the 60’s” that I had decided to inflict upon the world. And, um. I somehow threw a bunch of introspection and symbolism into it? 
> 
> Lyrics are in italics  
> (And I would highly recommend listening to the original song because it's a bop and features John Travolta in drag)

* * *

America was over at his house again. Like he was 4 days ago, and 19 days before that, and 24 days before that. His visits were becoming more and more frequent, and Ivan wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. Mr. Gorbachev had said that Ivan was going to be Russia again, and that he and America were supposed to be friends, or at the very least not enemies, but Ivan couldn’t stop the sudden rush of adrenaline that raced throughout his body every time he saw golden hair or heard a boisterous laugh.

Ivan stepped aside to allow America into his home, already taking stock of his stature and movements to gauge his physical ability and health. It wasn’t until Ivan had already registered America’s relaxed shoulders and easy smile that he remembered he didn’t have to analyze for weaknesses anymore. He led America to the living room and left him on the sofa while he stalked off to make some tea in the nearby kitchenette.

“Hey Russia, there’s a world summit coming up. I know you haven’t really been going to them lately, but I was thinking that, well, since I’m hosting, you might come over?” America called over from the living room, his voice clear despite the distance. Ivan tried to even his breathing while he poured boiling water from the kettle.

“Russia?” America called when Ivan didn’t reply. “What do ya think?”

“I, I’m not sure, America. Seems very sudden.” Ivan clutched the mugs tightly by their handles as he tried to walk without spilling the contents.

Ivan entered the living room and passed the blue mug to America, who blew on it once before risking a sip. He tsked as he burned his tongue and set the mug on the coffee table to let it cool.

“I guess it is. But you must have a lot to say. Things have been changing so fast over here, just covering some of that would be enough.”

Ivan was even less comfortable with all the influx of western goods and media than he was about America visiting his house. He wasn’t confident that he would be able to discuss it with the objectivity expected by the other ex-enemy nations.

“Or, you know, don’t say anything. Just showing up, I think, would be a good start.”

America was staring at him with those stupid eyes of his. The same ones that had looked at him in the 19th century and promised Ivan the friendship and solidarity he had been searching for his entire life. Eyes that Ivan hadn’t seen since maybe half a century ago, after he had changed his name.

Ivan looked down into his tea, willing it to cool enough to drink and give him an excuse not to talk for just a little longer because he didn’t quite know how to explain to America how it felt. How he could barely stand it when America had considered him a monster, and to face a room full of other nations who thought the same even now…the rigid strength of the USSR that had carried him proudly through those encounters was dissipating by the day. The iron fortitude was being buried under empathy and conscience. Ivan wasn’t sure if he could withstand the world looking at him like some disgusting aberration. Maybe he was able to as the USSR. But not now. Not as Russia.

“I’ll do it after our next summit.” Ivan murmured. “That’s when I’ll do it. The neighbors haven’t seen me since I was a communism. Don’t make me do it, Fred- ahem, America.”

“ _Ivan_ ,” America huffed, making sure to stress his usage, and unspoken permission, of informal names. “It’s changing out there. You’ll like it.”

He pulled the red mug from Ivan’s hands. One hand set it on the table beside the blue mug while the other hand kept its hold on Ivan. America got to his feet, pulling Ivan up with him while Ivan was too distracted by America’s warm skin so casually caressing his frigid fingers.

“People who are different?” America queried. “Their time is coming!”

America’s excitement was so contagious that Ivan nearly didn’t stop himself from smiling back at his old friend. He quelled the impulse just in time, but of course that didn’t discourage the animatic man.

_“Hey Ivan, hey Ivan, look around!_

_Everybody's groovin' to a brand-new sound!_

_Hey Ivan, hey Ivan follow me!_

_I know something's in you that you wanna set free!_

_So let go, go, go of the past now!_

_Say hello to the love in your heart!_

_Yes, I know that the world's spinning fast now;_

_You gotta get yourself a brand-new start!_

_Hey Ivan, welcome to the nineties!_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._

_Oh Ivan, welcome to the nineties!_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._

_Go Ivan, go, go, go!_

Ivan reluctantly let go of America’s hands to escape the impromptu waltz. He ducked away from the eager smile and bright eyes, heading towards the liquor cabinet in his kitchen.

 _“Hey Ivan, hey Ivan, let's have some fun!”_ America sang, gripping the doorframe as he leaned into the room.

 _“I haven't left this house since 1951.”_ Ivan murmured, tucking his face into his scarf folds.

 _“Hey Ivan, hey Ivan, take a chance!”_ Now he was right by his shoulder, too close. Ivan turned away from the sunny face.

_“Oh Fredka, it's been years since someone asked me to dance.”_

He uncorked the vodka bottle, only for America to grab it and set the drink aside. America replaced the vodka with his own hands and pulled Ivan back into the living room.

_“So let go, so, go of the past now!_

_Say hello to the light in your eyes!”_

He didn’t stop at the living room. America continued dragging Ivan until they were at his front door.

_“Yes, I know that the world's spinning fast now,_

_but you gotta run the race to win the prize!”_

As America turned the handle with a free hand, Ivan silently thanked his past self from being too lazy to remove his boots when he’d gotten home from work.

“ _Hey Ivan, welcome to the nineties!”_

And his door was open.

Ivan followed America down his steps and onto the sidewalk. America practically skipped down the way, singing and smiling as the banners and signs reminded Ivan of the western products flooding the markets now that the Iron Curtain had been drawn back.

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._

_Oh Ivan, welcome to the nineties_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._

_Go Ivan, go, go, go!”_

As they walked, Ivan passed people in Levi jeans drinking Pepsi. One young man nearly ran into them, too engrossed in the music playing from his Discman. The storefront they passed had TVs playing gaudy music videos. Everyone’s clothing was saturated with colors and bold geometric prints, save for the few who veered sharply in the other way with jeans and leather instead.

America noticed his stares and changed direction, turning left and walking with greater purpose.

_“Welcome to the rhythm of a brand-new day!_

_Take your old-fashioned fears, and just throw them away!_

_You should add some color and a fresh new do_

_'Cause it's time for a star, who looks just like you!”_

He burst into the store like he entered any other room, like everyone inside had been waiting just for him. Ivan capitulated to America’s tugs, but hesitated when he saw the racks of clothing inside. The hesitation multiplied when several shop attendants encircled them, no doubt drawn in by what everyone sees in America.

With a flourishing gesture from America, the three attendants brought their gazes to Ivan. Words were not needed; apparently it was clear that he was the reason for their being in the store. Two grabbed an arm each while the third led them to a fitting room in the back.

_“Dontcha let nobody try to steal your fun,_

_'Cause a little touch of flannel, never hurt no one!”_ The woman on his right snagged a shirt off the rack on their way.

_The future's got a million roads for you to choose_

_But you'll walk a little taller in Doc Martin shoes!”_ The woman on his left plucked a pair of black boots from a shelf.

The woman leading the way had jeans in her hands and passed them to Ivan, piling on the other items handed to him, before ushering him into a curtained enclosure. He got the message and began changing with the speed afforded by several lifetimes in the military.

Ivan stared at the finished product with a long mirror opposite to the curtain. The boots were somewhat familiar, if a bit looser and smaller than what he normally wore to the field. The jeans were of a firm material, but the fit was unusual and would take getting used to. The shirt was red and black, contrasting greatly with his pale skin and hair.

Red was a familiar color to him by now. So then why did he feel like an imposter?

 _“And once you find the style that makes you feel like you,”_ he could hear the women sing outside.

_Something fresh! Something new!_

_Step on out! Hear us shout!”_

_“Ivan, that's your cue!”_ America’s voice cut through the rest like a bullet through flesh.

And just like that, Ivan knew.

Everything was always easier if he just went along. If he just accepted the madness. If he surrendered himself to the moment.

His childhood had been endless solitude in the cold.

His adulthood had been war after war after war.

This last war had been the worst.

The others had been bloody, incessant, intimate.

This one…this one had been cold, slow, lonely.

But it was over. It was finally over. He wasn’t alone anymore. The world was, indeed, moving fast now. And he felt…warm.

He peeked out the curtain and saw America, no, he saw Alfred standing there, waiting. Ready to pick up where they had left off nearly 100 years ago.

The curtain felt more like iron than fabric, but Ivan managed to draw it aside.

_“Hey Fredka, hey Fredka, look at me!_

_I'm the raddest commie that ya ever did see!_

_Hey Fredka, hey Fredka, look at us!_

_Where is there a pair that's half as fabulous!_

_I let go, go, go of the past now;_

_Said hello to this red-carpet ride!_

_Yes, I know that the world's spinning fast now,_

_Andreychenko better step aside._

_Your Ivan's welcoming the nineties!”_

Ivan found himself caught under the full effect of Alfred’s smile and couldn’t withhold one of his own.

_“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._

_Go, Ivan, go, go, go_

_Welcome to the nineties!”_ The attendants chorused while Alfred pulled a cargo jacket from the rack, a slightly darker tan than Ivan’s old military coat had been.

There was a Russian flag sewn onto the right sleeve amongst a few other haphazardly applied patches.

 _“Oh Ivan, welcome to the nineties!”_ Alfred all but cheered as they bounded out of the shop.

_“Your Ivan’s hip,”_

_“Hip!”_ Alfred was positively beaming at the idea, so Ivan couldn’t stop himself from continuing in an effort to keep that grin alight.

_“Your Ivan’s in-”_

_“In, Ivan!”_

_“Your Ivan’s looking at himself and wondering: where you been-”_

_“Where you been!”_

_“Your Ivan’s lit-”_

_“Lit!”_

_“He’s all aglow-”_

_“Glow, Ivan!”_

_“Your Ivan once was holding back, but Ivan’s gotta let go, go, go!”_

_“Oh, welcome to the nine to the O to the apostrophe S, hey, yeah, yeah, yeah!_

_Go Ivan, go, go, go!”_

Alfred gripped his hands tightly and Ivan clutched his with equal force as they spun around. The lights blurred into bright streaks that surrounded them like the rings of Saturn, and Ivan couldn’t stop smiling.

Things really were so different now, and the world was moving so fast around him that it had stretched into a messy smear just like these lights, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful.

Especially not with Alfred at his side.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Fashion of 90’s (actually quite comprehensive)  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1990s_in_fashion
> 
> Original Lyric - Lollobrigida  
> (one of the highest-profile European actresses of the 50/60s; international sex symbol)  
> New Lyric – Andreychenko  
> (icon of late-Soviet cinema, as sex became more commonplace)


End file.
